


Making Love

by B52



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 20:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16332656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B52/pseuds/B52
Summary: “It most certainly does not mean cuddling,” Brownie sighed. He was growing warm all over again, and he knew his face had probably turned crimson at this point. It was taking all his willpower to not just run out of the room and find a hole to curl up in and hide forever so he didn’t have to confront this mess. “It’s, um… it’s not… it… uh.”B-52 blinked at him. “Should I just go ask Napoleon?”“No!” Brownie almost jumped out of his skin, leaning forwards and grabbing B-52’s hands, thrown into an immediate panic by the thought of whatever definition Napoleon would surely give B-52. “Don’t—do that, please! It—it’s… it’s s-sex.”





	Making Love

“Can we make love?” was the absolute last thing Brownie would’ve expected to hear from his awkward, shy, cautious partner who almost burst into flames every time Brownie put a hand on his shoulder, and yet here they were. Sitting on B-52’s bed, hands folded in his lap, Brownie was pretty certain he was about to drop dead of either shock, embarrassment, or whatever the other emotion he was feeling was—he really didn’t want to give too much thought to it. Except then he dared to look at B-52 and saw that his expression was earnest as ever, and it took him less than a second to realize B-52 did not understand the implications of what he was asking.

“Where… did you hear that phrase?” Brownie asked slowly, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. His entire body was burning at the mere mention of something like _that_ , and he absolutely refused to let his imagination wander towards that subject.

“Napoleon told me I should say it to you,” B-52 said, his expression the picture of innocence, and even in this situation Brownie couldn’t help but find it endearing. “He said it meant… cuddling or something?”

“Of course it was Napoleon,” Brownie muttered, mostly to himself. He was going to need to have a talk with that man at the soonest possible opportunity.

“Does it… not… mean that?” B-52 asked, clearly hesitant. He paused for a moment, chewing his lip, then continued: “What does it actually mean?”

“It most certainly does not mean cuddling,” Brownie sighed. He was growing warm all over again, and he knew his face had probably turned crimson at this point. It was taking all his willpower to not just run out of the room and find a hole to curl up in and hide forever so he didn’t have to confront this mess. “It’s, um… it’s not… it… uh.”

B-52 blinked at him. “Should I just go ask Napoleon?”

“No!” Brownie almost jumped out of his skin, leaning forwards and grabbing B-52’s hands, thrown into an immediate panic by the thought of whatever definition Napoleon would surely give B-52. “Don’t—do that, please! It—it’s… it’s s-sex.”

B-52 made a strangled noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a yelp. He gaped at Brownie, his cheeks flushing bright red, and suddenly Brownie was very aware that he was gripping B-52’s hands in his own and he was sitting close enough to B-52 that their thighs were touching and he was only a few inches from B-52’s face, and—Brownie jerked back like he’d been electrocuted, scooting away from B-52 as fast as he could, scrambling to save whatever small remnants of his dignity were still intact. Both of them were silent for a long moment, leaving Brownie with nothing to focus on except the pounding of his own heartbeat and the feeling of sweat dripping down his back and the sight of his own hands because there was no way he’d be able to look at B-52.

“Um,” B-52 finally croaked. “S-so… you wouldn’t, um… want to do that?”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t want to,” Brownie said without thinking, and then immediately wished he could somehow draw the words back into his mouth. Panic gripped his chest, his heart racing and palms growing clammy, and he began to ramble, frantic to somehow save the situation. “I-I mean, only if y-you’d also want to, of course you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, and actually if you don’t want to then I take it back, please just forget I said anything, I—”

“I wouldn’t mind,” B-52 said, cutting him off.

Brownie froze for a moment, his mind working overtime in an attempt to process what had just transpired. Half in disbelief, he raised his eyes to B-52’s face to see that he was bright red and pointedly staring at the ground, not unlike how Brownie had been looking at anything but B-52 up until a few seconds ago. Somehow, he found it kind of comforting that B-52 was just as flustered and unsure as he was—not that that was shocking news, since the both of them could still barely handle anything more than a side-hug.

“Um,” Brownie said. “Okay. Right. Um… oh no, how do we do that?”

There was more silence for a second before B-52 broke into a fit of helpless giggling, and even though he felt like he was going to die of shame, Brownie couldn’t help but smile like a fool. When B-52 laughed, his eyes scrunched up and his tongue stuck out a little and his entire being seemed to light up and no matter the circumstances it always made Brownie’s heart feel so incredibly warm, and all of a sudden he didn’t feel quite so nervous or embarrassed or awkward, because this was B-52 and he trusted B-52 and he loved B-52 with all his heart, and to tell the truth? The more he allowed himself to think about it, the more he did want to… _make love_ to B-52, despite—or maybe because of—the way his skin was prickling with heat and his mouth was dry and his head was spinning.

B-52 drew in a breath and exhaled, clearly trying to compose himself. “Well,” he said. “Um… can I try something?”

“Ah—” Brownie’s words caught in his throat, and he just nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly.

B-52 reached out a trembling hand and hesitated for a moment, like he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do with it. Then he trailed his fingers across Brownie’s thigh, and even separated from Brownie’s skin by a layer of fabric, his touch sent a chill up Brownie’s spine. His breath hitched, and B-52 looked at him with an unspoken question in his eyes. Before B-52 could draw his hand away, Brownie managed a nod and a weak smile in response, hoping B-52 would understand that Brownie was giving him permission to do whatever the hell he planned on doing.

“I’m… going to touch you, okay?” B-52’s voice was low and husky all of a sudden, and Brownie had never heard it like that before, and it kind of made him feel like he might actually pass out.

“Y-yes,” he stammered, then instantly began cursing himself for sounding so damn formal.

Thankfully, B-52 didn’t seem offended by Brownie’s inability to not act like he was at a business meeting when he was about to have sex, and instead brushed his fingers along Brownie’s inner thighs, tantalizingly slow feather-light touches that made Brownie shiver. B-52 leaned closer and began leaving soft kisses on Brownie’s neck, his breath hot against Brownie’s skin as his mouth worked its way down to Brownie’s collarbone, B-52’s free hand deftly unbuttoning the collar of Brownie’s shirt to expose more of his chest. Brownie, for his part, was pretty much just sitting there like an idiot, struggling to hold back the small gasps that threatened to escape past his parted lips.

“B,” he whispered, though he found himself regretting saying anything when B-52 paused and moved back a little. “What, um… what are you going to do?”

“If you’re okay with it,” B-52 began, keeping his voice low, “I’m… I’m going to… pleasure you.”

“But—but don’t you want, um… me to… do that… to you?” Brownie was trying desperately to avoid saying out loud what they were doing, as if leaving it unspoken somehow made it less embarrassing.

“Hm.” B-52 shook his head. “I mean, if you want to, it’s not like I’d have a problem with it… but I—I want to make you feel good first, okay?”

Brownie nodded meekly, stunned into silence. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by this turn of events—B-52 had pretty much always put Brownie’s happiness before his own. Even so, Brownie was so very unused to people being entirely focused on bringing him joy rather than expecting something from him, and it was shocking and strange and kind of embarrassing, but more than that, it was… nice, actually. It was a pleasant change from his day-to-day life—one of the many pleasant changes B-52 had brought him over the years, if he was being honest, because B-52 truly was a blessing and it was impossible to count the ways in which he’d helped Brownie’s wellbeing.

“Okay,” B-52 said, and Brownie got the feeling he was talking more to himself than to Brownie. “I’m going… to touch you… and—and if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, just tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” Brownie whispered.

B-52 resumed his tracing of Brownie’s inner thighs, and then slowly, slowly, made his way up to Brownie’s groin, where the fabric was noticeably tighter than usual. Brownie found himself panting softly as B-52 began to kiss his neck again, nibbling his collarbones—never enough to hurt, just enough to leave a faint mark. He could feel a coil of heat burning somewhere in his abdomen, growing by the second, his pants becoming more and more stretched over his crotch as B-52 continued his gentle, teasing kisses, and then—

With very little warning, B-52 palmed at Brownie’s cock through his pants, and a jolt of electricity ran through Brownie’s entire body, his hips bucking towards B-52’s hand. So much for keeping his composure—the instant B-52 touched him, he let out a yelp that became a string of whimpers as B-52 continued rubbing him, seemingly emboldened by Brownie’s noises, which he found himself unable to hold back no matter how hard he tried. His eyes had snapped shut, but he forced them open to see that B-52 had unbuttoned Brownie’s pants at some point during this and was now sliding them down his thighs, leaving Brownie’s erection covered only by his boxers.

“Is this okay?” B-52 asked, shifting to a kneeling position, propping himself up with one hand so he was leaning over Brownie’s groin.

At this point, Brownie didn’t trust himself to speak; he just nodded frantically, desperate for B-52 to continue. B-52’s eyes lit up and he smirked, which Brownie was certain wasn’t an expression he had ever seen on B-52 before, although something about it was very handsome.

“You’re very eager, hm?” B-52 purred, his voice rising from low in his throat—and oh god, Brownie could get off on that alone. “That’s good. You’re such a good boy.”

He pulled Brownie’s boxers down, and Brownie felt his entire body flush at the knowledge that his stiff cock was now exposed, right there for B-52 to see. The head was damp with precum, and when B-52 lightly swiped his thumb over it Brownie was pretty sure all conscious thought left his mind for a good five seconds as he cried out, jerking his hips upwards in an attempt to rut against B-52’s hand. B-52 chuckled, and without even giving Brownie time to recover from _that_ , he lowered his head and licked at Brownie’s cock. If Brownie had been clinging to any semblance of dignity or shame or composure, he lost it right then, but to tell the truth he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“B,” he gasped out as B-52 slowly drew his tongue along Brownie’s dick, sending pulses of warmth throughout his entire body. “Ha… ah… f-fuck…”

B-52’s lips closed around Brownie’s erection, and Brownie felt himself dissolve into pure pleasure as B-52 slid his tongue across Brownie’s shaft, the head of his dick rubbing the roof of B-52’s mouth. The sensation was warm and overwhelming and incredible and Brownie couldn’t stop his hips from moving, but B-52 didn’t seem to mind, falling into a comfortable rhythm, bobbing up and down before suddenly speeding up and sending a new wave of heat through Brownie’s abdomen. His heart was pounding, his entire lower body pulsing, and they really hadn’t been going for very long and yet somehow _already_ Brownie could feel himself getting close.

“B—” He squirmed, his hands grasping at the bedsheets, struggling to put together a coherent sentence to warn him. “B, B-52, I—I’m gonna—”

B-52 didn’t pause, and Brownie realized with an odd thrill that B-52 wasn’t planning to let him finish himself off. He arched his back, whimpering as he felt B-52’s nails dig into his hips, just firm enough to hold him in place as B-52 sped up and Brownie completely lost the ability and will to hold back his moans. His entire body was racked with sensations that were all new to him—even the rare times he had allowed himself a moment of unprofessionalism and indulged himself, it had never felt like _this_. It had always been a quick jolt of pleasure and then it was over, but now B-52 dragged it out, teasing him, slowing down just when Brownie was about to cum, and god it felt incredible.

B-52 raised his head a little to swirl his tongue around Brownie’s cock, and Brownie looked down and saw him, face flushed red and eyes half-lidded and lips soft around Brownie’s dick, and that was his breaking point. The knot in his abdomen came undone and he cried out, his mind going white with pleasure as he thrashed on the bed, his hands balled into fists and clutching the sheets tightly, his skin warm and sweaty and prickling as the climax hit him in waves, that sweet feeling rushing through his body until he was dizzy and breathless. When it finally ended he fell back and just laid there, panting, his eyes shut and his head still spinning. His thighs were trembling and his heart was pounding and he was sticky with sweat, and despite all that he could feel himself smiling from ear to ear.

“Hm,” B-52 said, and Brownie forced himself into a sitting position to look at him. The sight of B-52 sitting there with cum on his lips was arousing, mortifying, and panic-inducing all at once—he’d forgotten about it for a moment, but _oh no_ he had just cum in B-52’s mouth, what on earth had he been thinking?

“I-I’m so sorry!” Brownie stammered, his sleepy daze instantly vanishing to be replaced by cold fear.

“Huh?” B-52 blinked at him, and then, as Brownie watched, licked the remnants of Brownie’s orgasm off of his lips. “What for? I mean… I knew you were going to do that, and I wanted to taste it, that’s why I didn’t pull away.”

“Oh,” Brownie said, simultaneously stunned and relieved. At least B-52 wasn’t disgusted, he supposed.

“Um.” B-52 ran his fingers through his hair, averting his eyes from Brownie—both of those things were nervous habits that Brownie knew well. “Did… did I, uh… did I do everything right? Was I good?”

Brownie went silent for a moment, simply because his heart was swelling so full of love he couldn’t speak, and he didn’t think he could express with words how he felt anyway. Instead he reached out and pulled B-52 into an embrace, not caring that he was still half-naked and covered in sweat and his hair was a tangled mess—this was B-52, it was okay for B-52 to see him like this—and then leaned up and kissed him hard. B-52 didn’t hesitate to kiss back, his lips warm against Brownie’s, his tongue slipping into Brownie’s mouth as his hand found its place on the back of Brownie’s neck. When Brownie broke away, gasping for air, he found himself unable to stop smiling.

“You were perfect,” he whispered, laying his head against B-52’s chest and closing his eyes. “You’re always perfect.”

“I love you,” B-52 murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Brownie’s head.

“I love you too.” He pulled away, fixing B-52 with a mock-serious look. “Alright, now it’s my turn.”

“H-huh?” B-52 stammered, though judging by the way his face reddened at that, he knew exactly what Brownie meant.

“You didn’t really think I was going to neglect you after all you did for me, did you?”

 

* * *

 

“Napoleon Cake!” Brownie half-shouted his name, torn between keeping his voice down—because he would absolutely _die_ if anyone overheard this—and making it clear to Napoleon exactly how much trouble he was in as he marched up to him.

“Hm?” Napoleon blinked at him, wearing an innocent expression that Brownie, after years of knowing him, could see through in an instant.

“Don’t—don’t tell B-52 things that aren’t true!” Brownie snapped. Even without specifying what those things had been, he could feel heat rushing to his face, and if Napoleon’s smirk was anything to go by, it was very, very noticeable.

“You’re welcome,” Napoleon said with a wink. “So, give me the details. How’d it go down? Or rather, _who_ went down—”

“ _NAPOLEON!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> hey I've never written porn before but since there's no BB52 smut in existence I felt the need to do this. sorry the pacing is awful


End file.
